Aria darts toward him next, all long limbs, wild curls and pure joy. “Daddy!” She wraps herself around his waist. “You’re okay. You’re really okay.”
“I’m right here, baby.” He cups the back of her head, eyes closing. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Daisy runs to me seconds later, hugging me tight. “Auntie El,” she whispers, sounding far too grown for eight years old. “We were so scared.”
“I know, sweetheart,” I smile reassuringly, brushing her hair back. “But we’re okay now.”
Flora meets my gaze next, eyes shining. “Thank you for protecting him,” she says softly.
I blink. “Flora—“
“I mean it,” she insists. “You saved him. He saved you. And you both saved each other. That’s what matters.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I simply squeeze her hand.
Dad steps forward then, patting Cole on the back in a way that’s half affection, half “thank God you’re alive so I don’t have to bury my daughter’s future husband.”
He clears his throat, glancing at me. “Y’all ready to eat? Everything’ll get cold if we keep staring at each other like a bunch of barn cats.”
A ripple of laughter washes through the yard, breaking the last bit of hospital heaviness between us.
Cole looks around, still a little overwhelmed. “This is… a lot.”
“It’s family,” I grin, bumping his arm. “We come in one volume: loud.”
He laughs under his breath. “I figured.”
We join the rest of them around the picnic tables. Cole and I sit side by side, plates full, the sun warming our backs. I catch him looking around more than he eats—watching Dad show Aria how to cut her brisket, Ava smear whipped cream on Zane’s cheek, Quinn wipe Luella’s fingers, while Beck pretends he’s not misty-eyed from seeing us alive.
Cole keeps clearing his throat, like he’s working up to something. I press my knee lightly against his under the table. “You okay?”
He hesitates. “I’m… grateful.”
“That’s not usually something you look pained at saying,” I tease.
He exhales through a shaky smile. “I didn’t expect this. Any of it.”
I know what he means: the welcome, acceptance, the way my family folds him in like he’s always belonged here.
Before I can say anything else, Dad settles heavily onto the bench across from us. “We’ve been talkin’,” he starts, wiping his hands on a napkin. “About the project.”
Cole straightens instantly. I feel the tension roll through him like a gust of wind. “Hank, I know things got messed up. I understand if you want to cut ties with Dawson Construction—“
Zane snorts. “Cut ties? Why? ‘Cause some bitter cowards tried to blow you up?”
Cole looks genuinely confused. “I thought… maybe after everything… you’d reconsider.”
Jace shakes his head. “Cole, the insurance covered all the damage. The timeline’s shot, sure, but the funding’s intact.”
“And,” Quinn adds, leaning forward, “it’d be idiotic to fire the one man who can rebuild it right.”
Cole blinks. “You’re keeping me on?”
“Son,” Dad says, firm and kind, “we didn’t hire you outta pity. We hired you ’cause you’re damn good at what you do. What Toby and Calista did ain’t your fault.”
Cole opens his mouth to argue—because that’s who he is, a man who will always take on more guilt than belongs to him—but Flora stops him with a sharp look.
“Don’t make me smack your shoulder while it’s still healing,” she warns.
